


Her Struggle

by WildwingSuz



Series: Struggles [1]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, MSR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 17:03:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8808829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildwingSuz/pseuds/WildwingSuz
Summary: Scully’s struggle during S10 to deal with her past relationship with Mulder after their breakup.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Notes: Interestingly enough, the idea for this story came from an argument I had with my husband.  I never fail to be surprised at the odd times story ideas pop up.
> 
> Yes, there will be a sequel, maybe two.
> 
> Spoilers: The whole show up to season 10, episodes 1 – 4. I highly recommend having seen at least My Struggle (E1) and Home Again (E4) before reading this.

 

Thank you again to Mimic117, the best beta reader a writer could ask for

 

 **Her Struggle**  
Rated PG-13  
Suzanne L. Feld

 

 

**April 2015**

“I don’t think I can ever love you again, not even as friends.  You’ve hurt me too much.  That ship has passed.”

 

Mulder looked like he’d been sucker-punched in the gut as he stepped back from me.  I felt horrible about saying it, but it definitely needed to be spoken out loud.  Though we’d had a type of telepathy for years, he was not hearing my unspoken thoughts this time around.

 

“Scully, I thought... oh, fuck. Never mind what I thought.”

 

He turned away from me, shoulders slumping.

 

I _had_ been glad to see him, to know that that he was all right, when we met in D.C. a few days ago.  But this sudden and unexpected declaration of love for me, asking if I still felt the same about him, had shocked me.  I had no idea he still had any feelings for me after nearly a full year apart with no contact.

 

“When did I ever give you cause to believe otherwise?”  I put my hands on my hips and glared at his back.  “I left you, Mulder, because you were severely depressed, drinking, taking your anger out on me, and would not get help.  I don’t know how much that’s changed.”

 

“Does it matter if I tell you I’ve cleaned and dried myself out?” he said angrily over his shoulder.  “I haven’t had a single drink since you left, and am seeing a psychiatrist and on antidepressants.  That I’ve been trying, and was hoping to eventually win you back?”

 

“’Win me back’?” I repeated, surprised.  “What made you think you could?”

 

He turned towards me, hands in jean pockets.  He looked terrible, tired and haggard and unshaven, in the wake of Sveta’s disappearance.  I couldn’t help but notice that while the stubble on his lean jaw had grey hairs salted through it, he barely had any in the thick, dark hair on his head.  “Why would you think I wouldn’t want to?”

 

“Because I haven’t heard from you in a year?” I said pointedly.  “Not a call, not an email, not even a snail-mail letter.”

 

“When you left, you told me you never wanted to see or hear from me again.” He frowned, a lock of mahogany hair falling over his forehead much like it used to so many years ago when we were young and fresh and unbroken.  “You didn’t contact me, either, you know.  I wanted to give you some time to cool down.  You said some really mean things to me that last night, Scully.”

 

“And you didn’t?” I stared at him, aghast.  I knew I was being unreasonable, getting angry at him for not contacting me when I had told him not to, but I didn’t care.  “You said _the_ most horrible things that have ever been spoken to me.”

 

“I was drunk,” he said defensively.  “I told you I didn’t mean it.”

 

“I can’t just conveniently erase what you said from my memory,” I said coldly, my heart aching anew as I remembered it yet again.  I had laid awake many a night running those insults and horrible accusations over and over in my mind.  How could someone say those things to another person that they professed to love?  They had been bitter, heartless words of hate meant to cut and wound and dear God, _had_ they.  “And nothing I said was half as bad as what you accused me of… about William.”

 

I wanted to cry, but no damn way was I going to in front of him.  I’d done enough crying because of Mulder, and I was done with both it and him.  Lifting my chin, I forced the tears back and glared with all the stored-up anger that had been waiting to see him again.

 

His demeanor changed.  He seemed smaller, beaten, sad.  “I can barely remember what I said, Scully, and I truly regret whatever it was.  I was lashing out, and I’m sorry I took out my frustrations on you.”

 

I nodded as my anger deflated, but held my distance no matter how much I was tempted to go over and put a hand on his arm or even hug him; he looked like a hurt puppy.  But I knew better.  I had made a clean break, and this was not happening again.  When I was young and stupid I’d gone back to and believed in Mulder, but I was much older and, sadly, I’d wised up.  “I accept and appreciate the apology, but it changes nothing,” I informed him.  “I have my own life now, and while this case _was_ like old times, that’s the end of it.  I’m going back to the hospital and my job there, and I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again.”

 

He stared at me, his face ashen.  We were standing outside the house we’d shared for so many years until the last one.  Not since I had left him, something I never thought I’d be able to do until he finally pushed me past the point of no return.  I had lied; I did still love him, loved him as madly and desperately as I had for going on twenty years, but I wasn’t going to let it rule my life anymore.  I didn’t regret my years with Mulder, but there were some things that could never be forgiven.  What he’d said about why I’d given William up for adoption was one of them.

 

“Scully… you can’t mean that,” he said slowly.  I was afraid he’d come over and try to hug or kiss me, like he had years ago after that case with the pedophile priest that had been the beginning of the end for our relationship.  I was ready to move away if he tried.  Just his saying how much he missed and loved me had already shocked me to the core.  I thought he was as done with me as I was with him.  “You… you don’t have to forgive me, I understand that, just don’t hate me.  Okay?”

 

As much as I disliked Tad O’Malley, both the man himself and his crazy right-wing ideas, it had felt good to be treated and wanted as a woman even if just for a short time.  I knew I had the reputation of cold, prickly Dr. Scully at the hospital; some even thought I’d recently been through a bitter divorce which I had, of sorts. If Mulder and I had ever married I would have been, that much was for certain.  “I don’t hate you, Mulder.”

 

“I’ve never stopped hoping that we could… get back together,” he said slowly.  “You’ve been the only woman in my life for so long, Scully, I can’t even begin to think of being with anyone else.”

 

“And what about Sveta?” I couldn’t help but ask snidely.

 

He stared at me blankly.  “What about Sveta?  She’s gone, they got to her.”

 

“Why was she in your house, Mulder?”

 

The dawning look on his face was almost comical.  “ _Me and Sveta?_ Are you serious?”

 

Now I felt like an idiot.  He was so incredulous that I realized what a fool I’d been.   
“She - She sure looked... comfortable in our house,” I sputtered in defense. 

 

He gave me a small sad smile.  “I’m glad you still think of it as our house,” he said.  “I know I do.”

 

I heaved a sigh, shaking my head.  “Enough, Mulder.  I’ve moved on.  You need to as well.”

 

“I have no plans for it.  Scully, we took so long to get where we were before I fucked it all to hell and back that I’m not giving up,” he said with his old determination showing.  The face may have aged, and the spirit was battered, but he was still my Mulder.  “I love you, and I miss you like hell, and I want you to come back.”

 

I was momentarily speechless.  I knew he was badly hurt about the breakup but I’d had no inkling he was thinking like this.  This time I shook my head and walked away to my car, and he didn’t try and stop me.  Which, at the time, was a good thing.

 

When I found out that Walter Skinner wanted to reinstate both the X-Files and us as agents, I was dead-set against it.  But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how much I’d missed detective work, the thrill of the chase, knowing we’d put one more bad guy--or mutant or whatever--away, and knowing that we had saved precious lives.

 

I fell back into the X-Files almost without realizing what I was doing.

 

**May 2015**

As the weeks passed and we got used to the non-routine of the X-Files, I finally admitted to myself how much I had missed him.  After I left Mulder I worked hard to make myself forget him, diving into and getting immersed in my new job.  And I thought that I’d done well, but now I knew how much I had fooled myself into believing that.

 

Now we were working together again and I found that we were falling into our old patterns.  So many bitter, angry words had passed between us that I never would have believed we could come together again, but we did.  Slowly, steadily, like two pieces of a puzzle lost and then found. 

 

When my mom passed, I found myself leaning on Mulder, relying on his steadiness and strength in a way I hadn’t since we’d been on the run.  When we were partners the first time around, I had been proud of being able to stand on my own two feet, not needing him to support me or treat me any differently because I was a woman.  I made sure that I never felt weak or less of an agent with him or any other male colleagues.  Now, I knew that I could still be my own strong self and yet count on him to be there when I needed him.  With age comes wisdom, indeed.

 

After we emptied the urn into the wind over the lake as my mother had wished, we walked back to the car together, Mulder’s arm resting lightly around my shoulders as I cradled the empty urn.  “So why here, Scully?”

 

“It was where she and my dad had their very first date.  He took her fishing and on a picnic.”  I shook my head, sadly amused.  They had, in their own way, been as unconventional in their courtship as Mulder and I.

 

“I didn’t know they were from around here.  I thought your family was from San Diego,” he said, frowning slightly.

 

“No, that’s where my dad was stationed when we were in high school,” I said as we trudged along the soft sand path.  The air was cool, especially this near the ocean, though I knew it would soon be warming up.   “My mom grew up in Norwich, and my dad was from Maine.  They met when his ship docked at Groton.”

 

“And that’s why we’re in Mystic.” He smiled slightly down at me, giving me a light squeeze before letting go.

 

“Exactly.” I paused next to the car, which was parked in a paved lot at the trailhead, and looked back.  Between tall tufts of seagrass atop the dunes I could just see the water. _Goodbye, Mom, for now,_ I thought with deep sadness. _If I make it to Heaven, I know I’ll see you and Ahab there._  I hadn’t seen my mother, or brothers, at all during the years Mulder and I were on the run.  We’d been somewhat uneasy with each other after I came out of hiding and our relationship was never the same.

 

I was tired, worn out, emotionally drained, and just wanted a nap at this point.  The fire that had ignited me after my mother died was gone, burned down past embers to cold ashes.

 

Neither of my brothers or their families had been able to make it for the service, so I honored our mother’s final wishes alone—except for Mulder, who was always at my side these days.  Just like we used to be.

 

I turned back to see Mulder gazing at me across the hood of the rental car, not judging or looking impatient or upset, just waiting.  I nodded and opened the rear door to set the urn on the floor behind the seat, and he got in on the passenger side. 

 

“Did you want to get a bite, or feel like checking in?” he asked quietly. 

 

I had planned to be out here the day before the funeral, but we’d been delayed due to the case we were working on when my mom had her heart attack.  So instead we’d flown up this morning, just in time for the service, and hadn’t checked into our hotel yet.  “I’m not really hungry, but we can see what the hotel restaurant is like if you want,” I said as I started the car.  “It’s a Hilton Gardens, so they ought to have something nice.”

 

“Scully, I can split the cost— “

 

“No, Mulder.  I appreciate your coming with me, and I’d have had to get a room regardless.  I don’t know any of my relatives around here well enough to stay with them.”

 

We didn’t talk as I drove, the rental’s GPS directing me to the hotel.  I did let Mulder take our bags in, unlike when we were partners and I always insisted on carrying my own.  Sometimes change was a good thing.

 

The hotel was indeed nice, much better than the cheap motels that the Bureau still had us staying in.  I had requested a single with two beds, not wanting Mulder to read more into my offer of sharing a room than I meant.  It was large and airy, with two windows since it was in a corner of the building, the furnishings boilerplate Hilton.   Still, it was pleasant, almost as nice as my room at the Homewood Suites in Alexandria where I’d been living since leaving him.  He didn’t know it, but I had more than enough Hilton points to cover this stay--and many more.

 

I unfolded the suitcase stand and put my bag on it, as I had begun doing while we were on the run, and Mulder set his suitcase on the floor next to the bed closest to the windows.  He knew I liked to sleep on the side near the bathroom and that was the bed he left for me.  Maybe I wouldn’t have to have the talk with him about the fact we wouldn’t be sharing one.

 

What I really wanted was a long hot bath and a nap, but hotel tubs aren’t suitable for comfortable baths.  Yet again I mourned both the clawfoot tub I’d had in my apartment in Georgetown, and the big oval tub Mulder had installed in our remote farmhouse.  I unthinkingly heaved a deep sigh as I pulled a pair of comfortable slacks and a sweater out of my suitcase.

 

“What’s up, Doc?”

 

I turned to face Mulder, who stood by the windows in his starched white shirt, suit jacket thrown over the easy chair nearby, loosening his tie.  I felt a jolt of love for him so deep and strong that it was nearly enough to drop me to my knees, but I fought it off.  Still, looking at his beloved, careworn face with those tired yet concerned eyes did something to me that I couldn’t ignore. “I was just wishing I could have a bath, but I know what the tubs are like in hotel rooms, even nice ones like this,” I said.

 

“I assume this place has a pool?  Then it should have a hot tub too.” Mulder moved over to the desk and picked up the black-bound hotel directory, tie hanging like a failed noose around his neck.

 

Although I started to demur, I changed my mind almost immediately. I always brought a bathing suit when I traveled, though I rarely used it.  The hot tub sounded divine.  I waited as he paged through the book.

 

“Aha!  Yes!  And I bet there won’t be many people at, uh, what, eleven in the morning?”

 

“I doubt there will be anyone. Sounds good.”  I dug out my maillot and took it into the bathroom to change.  It wasn’t until I was behind the closed door that I realized Mulder might take it askance, especially since we’d already seen each other naked so many times.  It seemed like almost a kind of mean thing to do, and yet I didn’t want to lead him on.  I rather wished we hadn’t talked outside his house after that first case when I’d discovered that he still wanted me, because it would have made our working together so much easier.  But done was done, and I’d have to deal with it along with everything else.

 

I was right, the echoing, chlorine-smelling pool room was completely empty.  Mulder and I took towels from the table near the door, then tossed them over a pair of chaise lounge next to the hot tub before taking off our cover-ups and stepping down the small ladder into it.  I was doing my best not to stare at him; though he had gotten a little soft and out of shape during the worst of his depression, that was clearly over.  He was as tight and toned as I’d ever seen him, with more defined muscles in his arms and chest than I remembered. My guess was that he’d been cutting wood or something along those lines because I knew that weightlifting bored him, but I was afraid to ask in case he took that as encouragement.  God, he looked even better than he had when we were partners twenty years ago!

 

For the first time his appearance made me realize how serious he was about us getting back together.  I knew he wouldn’t have begun working out again unless he’d stopped drinking and moping around the house.  It was clear to me that he was, indeed, trying.

 

I couldn’t help but wonder how he was in bed now, being so fit, and felt my nipples tighten and a tingle of warmth between my legs despite the heat of the water.  _Oh, no, you’re not going there,_ I told myself sternly, but remembering making love with Mulder had released a whole flood of passionate memories that I was suddenly powerless to resist or suppress.

 

“Man does this feel good,” Mulder groaned, sinking chin-deep in the bubbling water and closing his eyes.  “Damn, I didn’t realize how much I needed this.  How you doing, Scully?”

 

The sound of his deep groan didn’t help matters any.  I was able to maintain my composure and not leap bodily on him, though just barely.  I hadn’t been this aroused in Heaven knew how long.  “Wonderful,” I mumbled.  I was sitting across from him and as I also slid down, mostly to hide my chest, our legs brushed across the middle.  I didn’t move away from the contact, though I knew I should have. 

 

I could not believe I was getting physically aroused by the sight of him after all the nasty things he’d said to me which I still couldn’t forgive.  But after the last couple of weeks it did seem almost absurd for me to keep holding a grudge regarding one single fight, even if it had been the final straw which caused me to leave him.  Mulder had proved he was trying, getting help for his depression, and honestly contrite.  He showed me courtesy and respect both at work and in our private lives, the same way he had always treated me except during the years of his worst depression. 

 

That was when it hit me.  What had really been unforgiveable and inexcusable, even more so than his cruel words, was the lack of respect he’d shown me during that time.  It was what I had always craved and needed, not just from him but from most of the men in my life, starting with my father. It was what had kept me by Mulder’s side all those years. 

 

I let my eyes caress his beloved face.  Older, yes, with a few more worry lines and a tired droop around the eyes, but it was still the face of the man I’d loved, respected, and adored above all others for the past twenty-odd years.  I loved him; God how I loved him.  I had never stopped despite my pretending that I had, both to him and to myself.

 

Was it, perhaps, time to let the year-old grudge go?

 

Maybe.  Maybe, I thought, sitting up on the stone bench beneath the water.  If, perhaps, we got a few things cleared up first.  Could I bring myself to trust him with my heart again?  There was only one way to find out.

 

I rested my elbows back on the edge of the tub, letting my body rise from the seat and float weightlessly in the buoyant, effervescent water.  I wiggled my toes, which were peeking out of the bubbles, and said, almost too casually, “So, Mulder, I think it’s time to straighten out a few things between us.”

 

_finis_


End file.
